“Wynterborne’s honor was tarnished by the untimely death of our ambassador, without negotiations for his return.”
“And what happens when your challenge puts you in a grave? What will your brother say?”
I had to proceed with caution. Any hint of Adastrus’ disregard for me could prove fatal, yet suggesting my death would trigger open conflict would land me in the dungeons.
“I came to discuss this breach of trust.” My chin lifted, steadying myself. “I’ve spoken from myownconvictions, and stand by them.”
“Your life is in your hands, then.”
“So be it.”
He stared at me long and hard for a moment, before his fingers curled, tightening along the armchair. “Send for the Obelisk.”
His champion.
“As for the duel, I choose to use my Valahant.”
King Reid’s gaze darted to Sainte, narrowing with scrutiny, as he looked him over. His lips pressed into a tight frown. “The velebond is an ancient custom among your kin,” he remarked with caution.
“As is hiding behind a champion.”
He recoiled as if struck, unable to conceal his offense.
In tense silence, our gazes clashed until a colossal figure entered. I observed the towering bronzed giant with interest, noting his long, dark, braided hair as he strode from a distant doorway. Clad in steel armor, he wielded two swords that, while hand-and-a-half for most, appeared as mere shortswords in his grip. His countenance was rugged and formidable, his eyes menacing.
He aptly bore the name Obelisk.
Sainte stepped forward, tightening a strap on his remaining gauntlet.
“You would battle here?” I asked, clenching my jaw as I noted the limited space and the civilians around us. “You would have bloodshed in your hall among your nobles?”
“All the more witnesses to your folly.”
And all the more obstacles for Sainte to work around.
With a hard swallow, my gaze shifted between my Valahant and the giant. My role was fulfilled—I had done my part. He trusted me to get him this far. Now, I had to rely on his trust. I was asking a lot of him. The weight of my request mirrored the demands placed on me by the high court.
Bystanders shuffled aside without a word. The king’s daughter approached the throne, a protective hand draped over her belly, fixing me with a spiteful glare.
Sainte stepped ahead, and for the first time, I sensed the unease he must have felt escorting me to Wynterborne. This was his job, his expertise—he was a warrior. As a princess, born for this, yet as I watched him draw his battle ax from its sheath on his back, fleeting doubt crept in.
Would he survive?
The Obelisk smirked as he cracked his neck from side to side, then rolled his shoulders. Sainte drew in a deep breath, settling into a wide stance that emphasized his strength, his fingers tightening around the ax’s hilt.
I had to trust him.
He was my Valahant.
He was my champion.
The room fell into an eerie silence as the combatants assessed each other. When I turned, I found the king observing me with one dark brow arched in silent challenge.
A thunderous bellow erupted from the Obelisk, making me flinch. Kaen steadied me with a hand on my back before positioning himself beside me. As they sprang into action, there was little reassurance the advisor could offer. The giant advanced, swinging both swords in a sweeping arc that forced Sainte to duck and twist away.
The two spun as Sainte tried to get behind his adversary, deflecting blows with calculated precision. A moment of imbalance caused him to stumble, and I clutched my dress as the giant closed in. With a swift kick, the Obelisk raised his swords over his head.
“Poor choice,” Kaen murmured.
